It's Never That Easy
by WinchestersareHotties
Summary: It's no secret that Jo Harvelle wants to be a Hunter more than anything in the world. Yet, everyone in her life seems to think she's not capable, including the elusive Dean Winchester who she can't seem to stop thinking about. When the Winchesters take on a case for the Harvelles, feelings are questions and graves are turned. Set between S2 EP 12 & 13
1. Chapter 1

Jo sidled through the bar, her lean hips pushing by tables filled with empty and glistening beer bottles, paper baskets full of fresh and peppered fries, and men with sweat stained henleys and a story darker than their 6oclock shadow.

She couldn't find it in herself to hate the place, the dark musty interior, or it's desperate bar-goers whose filthy exterior shamed her into a shower. This place had become her home where nothing else fit quite right. If her mother wouldn't let her become a hunter, then by God she would serve them the best cold beer they could find after their long and hellish hunts.

"Hey Jo!-"

"Yeah, another Long island Long, I gotcha Bill." She shouted over the clamors, silencing the gruff but gentle man a few tables over.

"You're the best," he said with a smile, though Jo wasn't sure how much of that was her great service, or the casual number of beers she had slipped him all night.

As she began to walk back to the bar, she spotted her mother Ellen reaching towards the phone. Normally her mother taking a phone call during business hours wouldn't be seen as unusual, but this call was being taken on the phone reserved only for Hunter friends who needed help in the area. Looking for a case, or maybe just swinging into town ready for some friendly faces.

Jo's heart lurched, suddenly thinking of the Winchester boys who hadn't been in town for a while. Maybe they had called? No, she thought to herself. Last she heard, they were in the middle of dealing with Skinwalkers in Saint Louis. They had too much to do to bother with the Harvelles.

A beer slammed down onto the counter, pulling Jo out of her fantasies and straight into the face of her mother, riddled with wrinkles and worry, but the warmest face a person could ever see.

"Get this to Bill quick, he's startin' to look nervous." She said, wiping the counter beside the bottle, running her hands over her shirtfront. Hand on hip, she ran a finger over a curl slipping on her shoulder. Tired grey eyes ran the expanse of the bar, and a smile creased in her eyes from a wave across the way. Ellen was a busy woman, but she was never too busy for a worried smile.

Jo swung around, zigzagged through tables, placing a beer in front of Good ol' Bill. He smiled warmly, leaning back into his seat and taking a deep breath.

"You know Jo, I remember your old man like it was yesterday. I swear it, he was the best god damned man on this planet Earth. Got me through some sticky ones, he did. Barely got me out alive."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, never tired of hearing stories of her father. His spirit was all over the place, and every hunter who wandered through seemed to have stories of their own.

It wasn't perfect, but at least it was something.

"Jo your Daddy was a great man. Too bad about im'. " Bill returned to his beer, losing himself in his memories.

The night wore on like any other, and as the last few Hunters stumbled out the door, Jo collected the last of the bottles and paper baskets, and headed up to the counter.

Ellen was taking notes on a legal pad as Jo swung around behind the bar, taking her apron off as she went. Dusting her hands off on her worn old wife beater tank top, she pulled at the loops on her jeans until her old blue's were resting perfectly on her hips.

"So who's comin'?" Jo asked, not willing to meet her mother's eyes. The cooler she talked, the less inquisitive her mother would be.

"Nothin' to you" Ellen replied, no words of comfort tacked on. She had been through this enough times with Jo that it needed no sugarcoating. No was No.

"I oughta know whose comin' through our doors-"

"It's the same guys day in and day out," Ellen said, throwing her towel onto the counter.

"Then who called? I know you took a case-"

"Don't worry yourself with it, it's Hunter business. Not our territory"

Jo scoffed, "Not our territory? We serve Hunter's all night long, hand them cases and keep their secrets safe, and it's 'Not our territory?' You've gotta be shittin' me!"

"Joanna Beth! You watch your tone with me young lady!"

"I'm old enough to know what's going on! I want to help!"

"Absolutely not!"

The front door slammed shut, the curtains filtering enough light to shine on Dean Winchester's beat up old leather jacket.

"Actually, I think we could help."

"Not now Winchester" Ellen spat, furiously turning back to Jo, who was already moving on.

"Dean can help. He'll take the case." Jo said,


	2. Chapter 2

"Not now Winchester" Ellen spat, furiously turning back to Jo, who was already moving on.

"Dean can help. He'll take the case." Jo said, not even turning to meet Dean's eyes.

"They just walked in the door, Jo." Ellen replied, putting down the glasses she had reached for to turn to Dean.

"Hello boys, what brings you into town?"

Jo turned away from her mother, but was suddenly afraid to turn around. Dean's deep timbre of a voice rolled across her shoulders, and she had to suppress the urge to lean into him.

Sam spoke up, entering the bar and loosening the duffel on his shoulder.

"You probably heard about what went down in Saint Louis. We're trying to keep a low radar, you know? Figured we'd swing by, check up on you guys."

"Great idea, boys. Make yourselves at home" Ellen said, smiling and gesturing to the bar. "You boys look like you need a drink. Jo, why don't you go in the back and open up a crate?"

Jo rolled her eyes, knowing full well her mother was trying to get her out of the room so she could talk business with Sam and Dean. She'd get the details from Dean later, no doubt when he'll try hitting on her after knocking out a couple beers. Not that she'd complain.

As she walked into the back room, her hand searched for her knife. She swung it around with no effort, and cracked open a case of beers. Like any great waitress, she carried a handful of beers back out into the main floor, where her mother was hunched over the bar, pushing a manila folder across the way.

Sam looked up at Jo, eyes tired but welcoming as always. He gave her a smile and a nod, and Jo nodded back. Sam was quiet but gentle, and had a way of calming even the worst thoughts in your mind with a single look. She was glad he had come around.

Dean accepted the folder, tucking it under his hand as he nodded to Ellen, undoubtedly assuming responsibility for the case. He leaned back on his barstool to look around Sam, and raised his eyebrows at Jo, a look that said, "Hey there" without so much as uttering the words.

"Hey Dean. Sam" Jo said. She was horrible at small talk, and the need to know exactly what was in that manila envelope was written all over her face.

"Well boys, I've got some cleaning up to do, so make yourselves comfortable and have a few beers on me. I'll be in the back if you need anything."

"Yes ma'am", Dean said, reaching for the beer that Jo handed to him.

"Thanks Ellen", Sam said, reaching for his beer as well. Dean opened his immediately and had already taken a swig or two before Sam had even grasped his properly.

"So. How was Saint Louis? I heard it was pretty brutal" Jo started, keeping her eyes on Sam. She could see Dean looking down into his beer, eyes away from her. He was always keeping his eyes away. She hated that.

"We're lucky we even got out of there." Sam said, taking a swig of his beer.

"Yeah" Dean said, chiming in. "We had to swipe some dudes' S.W.A.T gear. It was pretty awesome"

"_Yeah" _Sam bit back. "I wouldn't put that on my list of 'Awesome things that've happened this year'"

"And what _would_ you put on there? Breakfast at the motel? I know how much you like those lukewarm pancakes they serve on Fridays" Dean spat back, rolling his eyes.

"Shut up, Dean", Sam said, turning back towards Jo.

Jo smiled up at Sam, her head tilted to the side. Blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders, and her hips tilted enough that a sliver of skin could be seen. Sam smiled back at her face, but Dean's eyes traveled down to her hips, just as she thought they would.

"I'm sure Ash is passed out somewhere, he'd love to see you guys. Might even have a lead for you since you were last here."

Sam chuckled, edging off the barstool. Reaching for a PBR, he began walking away. "I'll go find him, see if he's still breathing. I'm sure a cold PBR will wake him right up"

"Good luck", laughed Jo. She walked behind the bar, grabbing at the washrag left on the counter.

She knew Dean appreciated the silence, and left him to watch her as she started rubbing down the bar, cleaning up glasses and napkins as she went. She folded the tips left on the counter into her apron that was hung just right on her hips. The motion didn't miss Dean's attention.

"So. You make pretty good money around here I'll bet"

"Yeah. Tips are pretty good. Make the most money playing that shooting game over there." she nodded towards the game machines across the bar. "Damn fools never even check the high scores."

Dean looked down at his hands and smiled. He appreciated the craft more than most. It took skill, one that not many people had. He looked up at Jo, tried to imagine her hustling pool. He could see her bent over the pool table, coyly looking up at her victim, as she shot the perfect score. There was a fire in her eyes that made her different, strong.

He didn't want to know how that got there, what had happened to her. He knew better than anyone, that fire was burning her inside.


End file.
